The Path


There is a path 

Upon which there,

No sin can ever walk.  

Truth alone resides there on,

Refusing 

Useless talk.    

Upon that path the Lord himself,

Traverses at his leisure.  

Displaying God the Father’s will,

With His Glory,

Seeking pleasure.  

The proud stand clear and

Yell to Him 

Too hear

Their just and honorable cause.  

He pays no mind.  

Leaving them behind,

Intent with eyes for loss. 

He does not rest.  

Seeking for the best.  

To deliver wondrous hope.

The broken, 

twisted, 

Bent,

Sorrowful few.  

He’s looking, friend,

For hearts to mend.  

He’s looking for

Me and you:

The purpose of his Holy Mind,

The penitent few to find.  

Be bold!

Behold!

Approach and know,

The Living God is kind.  

Futile Response


The eyes of a man see the things of a man. And from his perspective he is locked forever.  

He will live and breathe, move and die, locked in a futile perspective of hopeless wasting. All the perspective of man can give us is its end result, death. And don’t we see the futility of that perspective being played out as people trying to grapple with the results of the election.  


From gloating to riots, the perspective of man seeks violence.  


All the while, the Mercy of God whispers, “Come to me and see these things from my point of view”.  


Who will stop long enough in the morning to listen to the whisper? Who will let the grace of God massage their mind and heart? The answer is obvious as you see people dance in futility all day long; not many.  


Jesus, the Christ of God, offers release from futility. To know about it is not the same as receiving it. Please take the time to think that through.  


By His Grace.  

Love is Life


Two roads diverged, in a vast wilderness. From the womb they went separate directions. Unknown to her, the mother gave birth to a broken heart.  

One was full of love and nurturing, and never ceased to be straight. As soon as it could stagger, the other road turned a crooked difference away.  


Mama and her son.  


From time to time the roads would intersect. But the traveler wore a knapsack full of deviance. Worn and tattered as it was, he had no intention of laying it down.  


When he would come near, mama would speak with every resource she had. “I love you. Come home and love me.”


Sometimes he would stay. But he never could love his mother. Eventually he would go back on his crooked path. Eventually the flood of tears would come to mama.  


Again and again and again and again, sorrow broke her heart.  


The mother died alone. A few decades later, the son also died. Estranged in life, estranged in death, estranged from each other for eternity.  


The horror of this story dragged on for 40 years. And the horror of the story is forever written in stone.  


How many billions of times must this story be written!

……………………………


The point of the story may be hidden from most who read it. If you understood it before now you are one of the very few.  


Nothing can change the will of a man to love. No words, no deeds, no pleading, no promises, no rewards, nothing. If a man will not love willingly he will not love at all.  


And if anyone had told the man, “You should go home and love your mother”, he would’ve been filled with indigence. Isn’t pride lord over deviant hearts?


Isn’t this the plight of our God? So willing to embrace ALL humanity. So deeply craving to be loved, so that he can give Life. But in almost everyone, he is considered a last resort. He’s just a place of warmth, security, familiarity, food, clothing, and trinkets.  


He promises eternal peace to those who love him. But like the man who could not love his mother, greed for the things she would leave him when she died is not the same as love while she was living.  


There are no words I can say. There is no deed I can do. There is nothing outside of a person that can change the will of anyone to love God. We either love him or we don’t. And if we don’t we never will.  


No promise of reward, no threat of destruction, no encouragement from our brothers, nothing. Salvation to glory forever rest in the will of every person. God is willing, are we?


And by this I am struck with amazement, even in myself.  


“Many are called but few are chosen.”

Dooless?


​All the world wants to avoid sorrow.  They smack down poverty of every kind, as often as they possibly can; material things, financially, social, and poverty of the soul.  Yeah, they go after poverty with a vengeance.
But in my life I’ve noticed something interesting.  When I had things, and life seemed to go well, I tried to rest there.  “This is good enough”, I thought to myself.  I figured I could easily live this way all the rest of my life.  But sorrow came back.  The joy of peaceful stability was ruined.
Sorrow is a friend, it is not an enemy.  It does not come to destroy, it comes to teach.  Look how Innovative we become after a serious bout of sorrow.
Humanity is like a poor student in school.  No matter what needs to be learned there’s always resistance.  Humility and wisdom is the key.  They both force us to realize we don’t understand hardly anything.
Has your life been a series of sorrowful exploits?  Did you find that you just gave up?  I did.  I became innovative with the mud of my own mire.  I didn’t think it would ever stop.  
I have to say it was Jesus who transformed me.  His interaction with me through the last decade  would take volumes to write.  But I can summarize how he did it.  
He taught me how to make the bed in the morning.  He taught me how to do the dishes when I was done eating.  He taught me that when I see something needing picked up or done, do it.  He lifted me out of my mud pit by teaching me to be dutiful not dooless.
I still face sorrow.  It comes to visit nearly every day.  But I no longer look at it as an enemy.  It is filled with the lessons my teacher desires me to learn.  Prosperity is only an honest prayer away.

Sorrow


​Wisdom of “The Pace”

Fills the hearts of most who race.
Measuring their stride:

With wisdom, most preside,
Over all of life’s demands;

With sobriety command,
The weary and the grand

Requirements of the Race. 
For me it is not so.

I dearly wish it were, 

Though.
For what I do is sprinting, resting,

Through the marathon of life.
The finish line.

Where are you now?
That lovely place,

Where my soul will bow.
Please break from your tethers.

Come meet me in the “Now”.
Arise and cease this music;

An errant putrid song,
That seems to be the only noise

Of my strings against the thongs.
Oh, how I strive to limit burden!

Only adding to the weight.
To offer sweetness as desert,

But filling up their plate!
The marks of feet upon the ground

Belong to errant soles, I found.
Old dust, I rose, come cover me.

Oh, “Finish Line” sublime!

Snooze Equals Lose


Think Eternity:

War is nothing more than legalized murder.  That is irrefutable.  But define murder.

Murder by starvation takes a long time.  But with the intent to see it through, it is murder from the beginning.  In its essence, murder is the removal of true freedom.  And isn’t that the nature of this entire world?

This may seem a little bit of a leap in linear thought, but the withholding of the Gospel from those who desperately need it; isn’t that murder on a degree unprecedented?  The Gospel offers eternal life and true freedom.  Again, define murder.

Perhaps that’s a little harsh.  Kind of like the rude alarm clock on Monday morning.  Get in the habit of hitting snooze and you may well lose your job.